Life Before Neverland, Peter's Story
by RiEsPr
Summary: We all know how it goes. Peter meets Wendy, John, Michael, and Wendy's daughter Jane. But what we don't know, is how it all began. This is Peter's Story.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Peter Pan, except maybe if I have new characters in the story --- then of course, THEY are mine! ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHAHA! So, enjoy!**

Chapter 1:

We all know the story of Peter Pan, don't we? Well of course we do! We all know how he lives in Neverland, with the Lost Boys and his arch nemesis, Hook. Of course, we can't forget Tinkerbell, his trusty fairy! And how one day, he meets Wendy, John and Michael, and they go the adventure of a lifetime, filled with mermaids, an Indian princess and the infamous Hook with his pirate crew! Can't forget Wendy's daughter, Jane, as well, and how she follows the footsteps of her mother!

But what we _don't _know is where _Peter_ came from.

Oh sure, we ALL know he technically comes from Neverland. But you see, if he lived in Neverland all his life, how is it possible that he could have become a grown boy? Surely that doesn't make sense! If he lived in Neverland all his life, he would've stayed as a little infant boy, wouldn't he? I think we all agree that he would. The whole story, as we know it, would change! Wendy, John and Michael would've probably NEVER met Peter (although he would've made a good friend for Michael). So, we can all agree that Peter's story must've taken place elsewhere.

That is where _this_ story begins…


	2. The Beginning

Chapter 2:

Back in the day, when New York City was just beginning to become an industrialized town, there was a family. Not a very big family, if I say so myself. The family contained a mother, father, and a little infant boy named Peter. They lived in a one-story apartment in the midst of all of downtown. Like most children in his town, Peter never knew a life of luxury, and often was found running up and down the streets of New York with his fellow companions (or if you could call them companions). He had never gotten proper friends, really, and when he wasn't trying to fit in with the children his age, Peter was often found sitting in his bedroom, playing with his toys, or gazing out the window at night. His parents could never decipher why exactly he always gazed out the window, or why he never tried too hard to mingle with the neighborly children. So they sent him off to school. Not that it helped much either. School soon became one of Peter's most hated places to go, partially because nobody wanted to be his friend, and because the teachers weren't too nice either. Even there, Peter often gazed out the school window, when his teachers were talking, and got caught for it more times than one could count.

In the Schoolroom one fine day:

….now, Peter, can you answer this question?

Peter looked up from daydreaming, once again, and once again, did not know the answer to the question his teacher had just asked him. In fact, he didn't know the question to begin with.

Whaa? Oh! The question, right! Umm, well of course I know the answer….umm

Peter looked desperately around the front of the room, in search of something that might give him a clue as to what his teacher was asking. He noticed that she was standing next to the world globe, so he assumed that they were on geography. Thinking fast, he decided the answer was probably China, since that was usually the answer to most of their geography questions.

Peter, this is the last time Im asking you! Do you, or do you not know the answer to the question?

Peter stuttered, Oh, well of course I do! The answer is China! he ended triumphantly.

Snickers could be heard from all around the room, and soon enough, Peter realized that they were NOT on geography, but on arithmetic. The teacher just sighed for the ump-teenth time.

No Peter, the answer is not China! Where have you been? We are on arithmetic, not geography! Really Peter, you have to get your head out of the clouds! Now, Samantha, can you answer the question?

Samantha stood up, smirking slightly, Of course I can. The answer is fourteen, and she glanced in Peter's direction, giving him a not-so-friendly look.

Very good. Now let's move on

Peter sighed and slumped in his chair. This wasn't the first time he had failed to answer questions. In fact, he was lucky that he hadn't been sent to the principals office again.

After school had ended, Peter walked home from school, alone, as usual, sulking to himself. He hated school, and he was pretty sure it had hated him just the same. He quickly walked up the steps to his apartment, and shut himself in his bedroom before his mother could ask him about his day.

After setting his schoolbag down, he took out a book from underneath his bed, and decided to read it, possibly to cheer him up a bit. It was his favorite book entitled, Hook

**(A/N: dont worry I know what I'm doing, I'm fully aware that the book is called Hook.)**.

It was about a barbaric pirate, named Captain Hook and his barbaric crew, and all the adventures that they encountered in a strange place called Neverland. In Neverland, nobody ever grew up, and life was full of fun and no work. There were all sorts of people like mermaids and Indian tribes and fairies, not to mention, pirates! Peter was always so fascinated by this book, no matter how many times he read it, and always dreamed that it was a real place, where he was a pirate with many adventures ahead of him. Peter sighed.

Of course its not real, how could it be? he quietly asked himself. He had never in his life, met mermaids or fairies or pirates, let alone have adventures with them. Sure, his parents always told him stories of pirates and their adventures, and his whole room was covered in pictures he had drawn of them, but that really didnt make them anymore real, did it?

No of course it wouldn't. What am I thinking? If they were real, I would've seen them by now wouldn't I have? And I've searched every nook and cranny of this house too! Pirates are supposed to make lots of noise, and I haven't heard a thing! He threw the book across the room, immediately regretting it, and went over to pick it up.

Oh well. No use crying over something that's not there, and he trudged downstairs to a familiar smell of his mothers cooking. It smelled like she was making chicken potpie today, Peter's favorite. He smiled to himself. Mothers know everything.

His mother appeared from the kitchen room, appearing quite flustered, probably from the steam.

Hello dearie, come sit down, dinners almost ready! Why dont you tell me about school today? she asked as she hurried back into the kitchen.

Oh, nothing really happened today, mother. Same old stuff, you know he didn't want to mention himself getting another question today, because of his lack of attention. But his mother knew better.

There was a short pause, You've been daydreaming in class again, haven't you?

Y-yes..I guess I have

I've TOLD you MILLIONS of times not to daydream, Peter! How many more times do I have to tell you? You really should know better….oh well, I guess that's just the way it is. Well, anyways, dont run off now, dinners ready After dinner, Peter once again, confined himself to the solitude of his room. Now my parents are starting to lose faith in me. What am I supposed to do? And with that thought he started to gaze out the window once again.

His parents found him soon after, still gazing out the window.

Peter? Oh good you're here. Well your father and I wanted to tell you that were going out this evening, so Mrs. Kingston will be over shortly to baby-sit you. Okay?

Peter groaned. He HATED Mrs. Kingston. She was their batty, old neighbor, who had lost her husband and daughter years ago. Sometimes he felt bad for her, but when she resided to her batty, old self, he often wondered why he EVER felt that way.

His mother saw the reaction, Oh dont act like that, Peter. You know Mrs. Kingston is a kind, old lady! Besides, you should treat her with respect!

Fine, alright. Well have a good time then.

Well be back before midnight, dont you worry, his father replied, with a twinkle in his eye. Peter suddenly brightened up, knowing that their would be a GOOD pirate story tonight.

Bye, dearie. And be nice to Mrs. Kingston! And off they went.

A couple of minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Peter, are you in there? Open the door, will you? The scratchy voice of Mrs. Kingston could be heard from behind the front door.

Coming, coming

Sure, this seemed pretty boring to Peter. He had no doubt that Mrs. Kingston would make him go to bed early. But what he didn't know was yet to come, and might change his life forever.


	3. All Alone

Chapter 3:

As he opened the door, the short, plump figure of Mrs. Kingston could slowly be seen. She had long, straggly white-gray hair, and her face seemed as if she had been stretching it back too long. Her eyes were a fierce grayish-blue that peered at Peter, looking him up and down. Secretly, he thought she looked somewhat like a witch, although he knew the thought itself was cruel. But there really was no denying it.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let me in, boy! I don't get paid to stand out here in the cold with you standing there stupidly, you know!" barked Mrs. Kingston. Peter was suddenly brought down to Earth, as she shuffled her way in.

"Now…your parents must have left a list of directions here somewhere…AHA! Found it!" Sure enough, Mrs. Kingston came back from the kitchen holding a single sheet of paper with a long list of "Dos and Don'ts".

The old lady mumbled to herself as she scanned the whole sheet of directions, "Bed at 7…mhmm…yes…homework at six…yes of course…alright then!" and she stuffed the paper in her cardigan pocket, and peered at Peter once again. He hated it when she did that.

"I suppose you think you've got more privileges now that your parents are out, do you?"

"No of course not, Mrs. King ---"

"Well you don't, and you should be fully aware of it! I'm not here to watch you burn down the house, nor will I ever be," she checked her pocket watch, "it's 5:30 now, which means you've got half an hour before you have to start your homework! Well? Run along, run along, shoo! I have work to do, and I don't need you to bother me!"

Peter stared at her for a minute or so, before running up the stairs, not wanting to cause anymore trouble. Truth was, he HAD no homework tonight, but Mrs. Kingston wouldn't believe that. As he sat down on his bed, he once again took out Hook, starting off at the place he had last read. Captain Hook and his crew had just encountered an Indian tribe in the outskirts of Neverland, and kidnapped the chief's daughter. She was yelling for help when all of a sudden, a fairy, named Tinkerbell, came out of nowhere and saved the day. Peter smiled at the thought. He wished _he _could somehow save the day from pirates. If there _were_ any pirates. If. If, if, if. There were a lot of things that Peter had wished were real.

Hours had passed, and soon enough Peter was lying in his bed, wide-awake, staring out of his window, and at the stars that occupied the midnight blue sky. Downstairs, Mrs. Kingston could be heard muttering to herself, angrily about something that did not bother Peter at the moment. _Probably because I didn't clean up after dinner._ He snickered. Mrs. Kingston ALWAYS found something to mutter angrily about, whether it be that he had been fooling around or even sitting around, doing nothing, for too long.

Just as Peter felt sleep overcome him, the phone rang downstairs.

_Mrs. Kingston will get it. It's probably my parents telling her that they're coming home any minute now._

But there was no sound. Not even a simple "Okay" or "It's $20, just so you know". In fact, Mrs. Kingston could now be heard thundering up the stairs, towards Peter's bedroom. Peter's heart almost stopped when she opened his bedroom door. There she was, standing there, her face a pale white, clashing horribly with her grayish-white hair. And for the first time in, probably years, she had a look of fear and sadness on her overly stretched face. A chill went up his spine. _Is something wrong? Why is she looking at me like that? Where are my parents? _

"P-Peter? A-Are you awake?"

"Yes…what happened Mrs. Kingston? Why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG?" Peter was starting to panic now.

"D-Dear…" the use of that word surprised Peter, since it was probably the first time she had used it. Something was definitely not right.

"Where are my parents?" he asked quietly, dreading the answer.

She choked back sobs as she answered, "Y-You're p-parents are…well, t-they d-died in a c-car c-crash!" She was openly sobbing now, collapsed on the floor, trembling with every sob she made.

Peter's face went white. His blood went cold. He could no longer feel his arms or legs or body. It took sometime before the impact of her words hit him. Hard. _No…NO! She's joking, I know she is, they said they would be home by midnight, Dad's got to tell me pirate stories, she's joking, I KNOW she is ---_

"STOP KIDDING AROUND! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PARENTS? I WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH, MRS. KINGSTON! THIS IS REALLY NOT FUNNY, WHERE ARE THEY?"

She was wailing now, "I'm t-telling you, P-Peter, they d-died! D-Died on t-the way b-back h-here! They ---"

But Peter would here no more. He ripped the covers right off him and ran past her out of his room, out the front door. As he reached the end of the stairs that led up to his front door, he collapsed, his head hitting hard against the cobblestone sidewalk. The last thing he remembered was a loud shriek and some blinking lights, before his whole world went black.

**Ooooh, a cliffhanger! Well, sort of. Whatever. BUT PLEASE REVIEW, EVEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT! Thanks a lot!**


	4. Peter's Future

Chapter 4:

"…don't you worry, Mrs. Kingston, he's coming along very nicely, just a bit of a bruise there…"

"No concussion or anything? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Now, now milady, no need to worry, he just had a little accident…besides who's the doctor here, hmm?

"Well…alright then…oh dear when will he wake –"

Peter could hear distant voices, which was making his head hurt terribly. One was easily recognizable as the scratchy voice of Mrs. Kingston, but the other one, he couldn't recognize at all. _Ohhh, what happened? They're talking about me, I know, but ---_

Suddenly, Peter's eyes bolted open, and he looked around frantically, "Where are they? Where are my Mom and Dad? Where are they, I've got to tell them, I've ---"

"NOW, now settle down, son, settle down, you're not feeling well, a little splash of water will help, now settle down, SETTLE DOWN!" A tall, bald man with beady black eyes was pushing down Peter onto his bed with a lot of strength, followed by an ice-cold splash of water onto his face. Peter gasped at the sudden change in temperature. He looked past the mean, bald man until he saw Mrs. Kingston, sitting quietly in a chair. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was constantly sniffing.

"Peter, darling," once again Peter was taken aback by Mrs. Kingston's sudden gentle tone, "r-remember w-what I told y-you yesterday?" she finished timidly.

WHAT? She didn't tell me anything yesterday! No, no, no, no! It was all a dream! A nightmare, it can't be true!

"NO! YOU'RE LYING MRS. KINGSTON, I KNOW IT, YOU'RE LYING! MY PARENTS, T-THEY'RE COMING HOME, RIGHT? RIGHT?" Peter was crying now, sobbing harder than ever, "P-PLEASE TELL ME T-THE TRUTH, MRS. KINGSTON!" He collapsed onto his bed, and scrunched up his scabby knees, sobbing into his already damp pillow. _NO, no, no, no, no…_

"Son, you're going to have to turn around, I can't check for bruises if you don't turn around. Now be a good boy…"

Peter gave the doctor the meanest glare he could possibly make. What did he know? His parents didn't die; he wasn't a loner in school. And here he was, standing there smartly, as if nothing had happened!

"P-Peter, please, l-listen to the n-nice man, he's t-trying to help y-you –"

"Help me? How can he help me?" and he slumped back down again onto his bed, his voice muffled, "just l-leave me alone."

The doctor sighed an exasperated sigh, "Alright, Mrs. Kingston, I think it's best if we just let him be for now. I understand he's going through a tough time, so we'll just discuss everything downstairs. Now if you don't mind, I'd fancy a cup of tea."

"Oh, o-of course, right this way," said Mrs. Kingston, choking back sobs.

All the way down the stairs, Peter could hear murmuring, until it finally faded away, and a sudden smell of coffee was wafting up the landing. He sniffled. _Discussing everything…discussing what? I have nowhere to go now; Mom or Dad never mentioned relatives. Maybe, maybe Mrs. Kingston will take me in…as evil as she really is…OH WHAT'S THE USE? I'm a goner! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO?_

After an hour or so, Peter was all out of tears to cry, so he decided to go downstairs, and drop in on the conversation. They must have heard him trudging down the stairs, because the talking immediately stopped as Peter came into view. Mrs. Kingston came running to him at once.

"Oh Peter! Are you all right? Do you want some water? Maybe you should –"

"What are you talking about?" He had no time for politeness right now. The bald doctor sitting at the table suddenly stood up.

"Son," he started, putting a rough hand on Peter's shoulder; Peter looked up, "your caretaker and I have been discussing matter and, well, w-we think it's best if we, well, send you to an o-orphanage.

"A WHAT?" yelled Peter "you can't send me t-there! I've read about those places, t-they make you into servants, teach you discipline, you c-can't send me there! I-I'll live with Mrs. Kingston if I have to, anything but an, an o-orphanage! I won't go!"

"PETER PAN!" shouted Mrs. Kingston suddenly, making both the doctor and Peter jump, "There's no other choice, you have to understand that! I've already tried to take you in, but it cannot be done! Please, please compromise with us for once!" Her harsh, scratchy voice was starting to come back now, "Besides, the orphanage is a wonderful place, and I'll be checking in with you now and then! Do you really think we'd leave you be; on your own?"

"N-No, Mrs. Kingston, I-I just don't – don't want to go. T-They won't treat m-me nice, I swear –"

"Oh don't you swear in front of me! I'm the closest person you have to family, therefore I decide where you're headed!" she turned towards the doctor, "the deal's done! He will go to the Bedford Town Orphanage!" and with a shaky hand, she signed the sheet of paper in front of her. Then she turned towards Peter once again, but her eyes were soft this time.

"Peter, you have to understand the situation. But don't you worry, I'll be checking in with you now and then, don't you dare worry. They will treat you nicely, I'll make sure of it! Now go upstairs, and I suggest you get a little bit of rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow!" With that, she turned around, and headed towards the kitchen. Peter could have sworn that he heard a sniffle or two from her.

Upstairs, Peter lay down in his bed. _What just happened? What's going to happen to me? What's Bedford Town Orphanage? Oh, so many questions, but no answers!_

He turned towards the window, and looked out into the stars, "Why did you guys have to go?"

**Don't worry the story will get better, I promise! I know I'm lagging behind with this whole parents dying, orphanage deal, but I promise to catch up in the next chapter! Look out for the next chapter soon! **

**Until then….REVIEW PLEASE: D**


	5. Bedford Town Orphanage For Boys

Chapter 5:

Peter woke up with a start the next day.

"Ugh, my head," he groaned, wondering why he had woken up so suddenly. After a few minutes, he bolted up in his bed. The conversation from yesterday was coming back to him now.

"Wait a second! My parents! They're d-dead! T-That means I have to go to gasp an orphanage!" He jumped up out of bed, despite the cold chilliness that reached his bare arms and legs, ran towards the stairs, until a loud snore froze him in his tracks. Who was that?? Quietly tiptoeing, Peter went towards his parents' bedroom, where the sound was coming from, and peeked in the doorway.

"Oh!" he exclaimed with a relief, "It's only Mrs. Kingston. But what is she doing here?" Then, as if Mrs. Kingston was listening to every word he was saying, she suddenly rolled over to the side of the bed and mumbled, "I've got to take you to the orphanage today. Best get ready, I'll be up in a minute…" And soon enough, loud snores could be heard once again.

Reluctantly, Peter headed towards the bathroom door, not wanting to think about what was going to happen to him now. Once inside, he collapsed onto the bathroom door, sobbing his heart out. The thought of his dead parents still hadn't left him and he felt so alone without them. Slowly and carefully, he brushed his teeth and changed into new, fresh clothes. Since he had packed the night before, Peter dragged his overly stuffed trunk down the stairs to his front door.

At the front door, he turned around and looked around.

"Well," he took a deep breath, "g-goodbye, h-house," Peter sniffled, "g-goodbye M-Mom, D-Dad. Don't worry I'll be good. Don't you worry one bit." And he turned around towards the door with a small smile on his face.

The old, rusty black car rumbled it's way down the main street, coughing up smoke now and then. Mrs. Kingston, who was driving it, could be heard from the front seat mumbling things like, "Wretched car" and "Really have to get a new one". Peter just sighed from the backseat and looked out the window. People were walking on the sidewalk, some meandering, some in a rush. Every once in awhile, a little child would be seen holding tightly onto the hand of a parent, dragging them towards a shop, whining about something or the other. _What I would give to be one of those children right now,_ thought Peter as he slumped back onto the seat.

"Now listen up, Peter, I talked the mistress of the place awhile ago, and she's very eager to meet you, but I want you to be on your best behavior! All right? No exceptions! You've got your stuff right?" she glanced back, "Good. Now if I could just find the stupid place it would help very --- AH! Here we are!" She stopped the car suddenly and got out of the vehicle. Peter slowly followed suit, and reached the trunk. As he took out his luggage from the back of the car and turned around, he stopped and stared in front of him. _So this is what a real orphanage looks like._

It was a tall, dark, maroon colored building with occasionally lit windows. It seemed a bit shabby and looked un-welcoming. He shivered and looked in front of him. The door must have been the brightest thing outside the building. It was painted a bright whitish-gray, with paint peeling off at every which corner. Right on top of the doorway was a large, gray sign that read, "BEDFORD TOWN ORPHANAGE". The name didn't sound too welcoming either. As Peter and Mrs. Kingston neared the front door, it flew open and a tall, stately woman came towards them. As she got nearer, Peter saw that she looked about in her 40s and had long, raven hair tied tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were liquid black, which were covered by wire-rimmed spectacles, and had a long prominent nose. She had a long neck and a skinny frame, which bore a velvet-green dress with a high collar.

"Hello, there son," she suddenly said, peering at him over her glasses, "I take it that you're Mr. Pan."

"Y-Yes I am, ma'am."

"Ah! Manners, I see…" she muttered, not smiling.

"Oh, and I'm Mrs. Kingston, Peter's current caretaker. Pleased to meet you," spoke up Mrs. Kingston, smiling a warm smile and holding out a hand.

The lady just looked at her outstretched hand and sniffed, "Yes, yes I am quite aware of that, thank you," she turned towards Peter once again, "my name is Ms. Dimmens and I am the headmistress of this orphanage."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Dimmens," Peter quietly responded.

After a few minutes of staring at one another, Ms. Dimmens spoke up, "Well it's no use standing out here all day! Come in, come in, I shall ask one of the maids to put on a kettle of tea for our guests. There's a busy morning ahead of us, lots to do." And she hurried into the shelter of the building.

When Peter finally willed his legs to walk inside, he let out a little gasp. It was as if he had walked into a miniature palace. The room was ornately decorated with antiques here and there, and on every wall hung a picture of a person or a painting of some stiff looking person, all stony-faced. A large, salmon colored couch sat in the far end of the room, and near Peter, there was a small table with four maroon poufs around it. The floor was covered in various, colorful rugs, and the fireplace near the couch could be heard crackling cheerfully. The staircase, which could barely be seen from the doorway, was covered in a bright red carpet, on every step. Peter glanced sideways and saw Mrs. Kingston gape at the furniture as if she had never seen anything quite like it. Peter went to touch one of the vases on the nearest table, but Mrs. Dimmens suddenly slapped his hand away.

"Rule number one: Never touch anything in this room unless your hands are cleaned properly and thoroughly," she paused, glancing at his slightly dirtied hands. Peter hastily put them in his pockets as she added, "and you would do go to remember it!" She now faced towards a gray door on the opposite end of the room and called out.

"Abigail!"

A middle-aged, curly, red-haired woman rushed into the room immediately, as if she had been standing right outside the door. She wore a printed dress with a large, dirty apron covering the front.

"Yes ma'am?" she answered with a thick Irish accent. There was flour all over her hands and body.

"Kindly prepare some tea and cookies for our guests. And while you're at it," she added, "go and fetch the boys from upstairs."

"Right away, ma'am," said Abigail, and she hurried out sight through the kitchen door. Ms. Dimmens stared after her before turning back to Mrs. Kingston.

"Now then, Mrs. Kingston," exclaimed the mistress so suddenly that Peter jumped, "I understand that you must be a busy lady, so it would be very unwise to delay our meeting for long. Let us discuss about Peter's arrangements to stay here, shall we?" As they sat down onto the couch to talk, Peter sank into the nearest pouf and stared absentmindedly around the room, wondering what would be in store for him in this place. However he was unable to delve too much deeper into his thoughts, for just then, a door banged open somewhere upstairs, shaking him out of his reverie. They all looked towards the stairs as the pitter-patter of small feet could be heard making their way down the steps. Finally, half a dozen boys emerged, standing in a line across the room. Each one wore a white, starched polo shirt, tucked into grey trousers as well as black shoes. The youngest wore grey overalls instead. They all stared at Ms. Dimmens, although each occasionally stole a glance to the new boy across the room.

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Kingston, "Are these the boys you were talking about?"

"Yes…" murmured Ms. Dimmens, taking much time to examine each boy head to toe. She stopped suddenly in front of a tall skinny boy.

"Theodore!" she barked out, making him wince, "Why are your nails so dirty? Do you not remember me clearly telling you that we would be having guests today? No don't answer!" she added, just as Theodore was about to open his mouth, "Just go and clean them now. Go on!" He hurried up the stairs immediately and out of sight. Ms. Dimmens turned back to Mrs. Kingston with a painful smile on her face and said softly, "You'll have to excuse our boys here. Some of them don't understand proper hygiene, which is vital to a healthy being."

"So," she continued, regaining her brisk manner once more, " why don't you boys take Mr. Pan upstairs to his room? Make him feel welcome while his caretaker and I have some important matters to discuss."

Before Peter could resist, two boys (twins by the looks of it) grabbed each of his arms and frog-marched him up the stairs. From what Peter could see of the boys' faces, he knew that he would be getting quite a welcome.

**Yes, I have finally decided to continue the story, for those of you who want me to! I decided to write one chapter per day, so that I don't lag behind, and you guys are guaranteed something new each day. I procrastinate A LOT, so let's see how that goes. In the mean time, review, review, review:D**


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